บท 44: Chapter 44: The Order of the Phoenix Meeting

As the beholder of myriad secrets, the halls of Hogwarts were awash with whispers of intrigue, most of which had inadvertently slipped past Sherlock Forester, the Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. To be sure, at precisely eleven of the clock after concluding his lecture, he found himself engaged in a clandestine meeting in Headmaster Dumbledore's office, along with Professor McGonagall, the purpose of which was to prepare for a journey to a location unknown to him.

"I should like you to know, Sherlock," Professor McGonagall solemnly declared within the echoey confines of the office, "that, following Voldemort's decisive downfall, there is no Order of the Phoenix as such. It has evolved into a casual gathering of friends with like-minded thoughts—no longer an organized cell exclusively assembled with a distinct purpose in mind."

Sherlock acknowledged her declaration with an indifferent nod, his outward emblems of comprehension barely veiling his vexation. It was surprising that even the steadfastly principled Professor McGonagall was beginning to show signs of adopting fluidity in her stance. Yet, her stressing of this weak point was somewhat emphasizing the obvious—anyone with even the most basic stratum of wisdom would have deciphered it.

In the midst of pulling himself up from his chair, Dumbledore caught wind of their conversation and shook his head in mirth. "There's no need for such decorum, Minerva. It would be more productive to elucidate matters to him."

Trading an amiable glance with Sherlock, the twinkling blue eyes of the headmaster seemed to harbour an implication profound in its ambiguity. "You may recollect what I disclosed when you first expressed a desire to be part of the ordder, Sherlock. The Order of the Phoenix was initially created for combating Voldemort and his zealous followers. Our allies are myriad and diverse: wizards, squibs, house-elves, tavern keepers, and even thieves. Yet, we are all bound by a common purpose—that of dismantling the influence of Voldemort."

"You are also aware of the subsequent turn of events. Voldemort's defeat led to a disintegration of his forces. The Ministry of Magic harbored anxieties over the might of the Order of the Phoenix, which had swelled beyond their command. In a bid to mitigate their fears, I decided to let the Order briefly recede from the public eye. But dissolution was never an option. From time to time, its members would assemble from various locations, engage in conversations about their lives or the happenings in the world and remain in contact until an hour of need arose. Then, as if out of oblivion, the Order would resurface in its full capacity. Have you deduced the reason behind such a strategy?"

Sherlock took just a beat before answering Dumbledore's question. "Because the threat was never completely eradicated and Voldemort could rise again."

The Headmaster affirmed his understanding, while re-establishing his view on the matter with firm determination. "It's not a matter of if but when. I do not want the entire wizarding world to be woefully unprepared at that hour. We must marshal our strengths."

Sherlock nodded gravely, reflecting on the transformation of his perception about the elderly wizard. The initial image of Dumbledore as a manipulative and strategically sly man, sown by his movie reviews he watched in his past life, seemed farcical in hindsight. Having interacted with him more closely, Sherlock discerned Dumbledore's calculative tactics, but found them entirely benign.

Dumbledore exuded an undeniable charisma fit for a man of his stature. His clandestine designs were abundant, yet devoid of harm. Furthermore, he possessed a remarkable trait of laying bare facts that others would typically hide, revealing them to you and explaining their intents.

Touched by his candidness and genuine essence of goodwill and integrity, Sherlock developed a respectful admiration for Dumbledore.

The Headmaster then extended his arm towards the phoenix that was ever perched by the door. The bird obediently hopped onto his shoulder, unfurling its wings in the process.

"Lend your hand to my sleeve, Sherlock."

Sherlock and Professor McGonagall positioned themselves on either side of Dumbledore, each of them taking hold of his sleeve. A long, sonorous cry by the phoenix, Fawkes, preceded their envelopment in a warm, golden-red flame.

In the next breath, they materialized outside a quaint and modest dwelling. As soon as Sherlock felt the firm ground under his feet, a voice filled with enthusiasm rang from the distance. "Hurry, Arthur! Dumbledore and his friends have arrived; everyone will soon be here. Fetch that apple pie I baked, adorn the table, and let the festivity commence."

In the faded coos of the familiar voice, Sherlock distantly recognized the location where Dumbledore had ushered them, into the Weasley family residence. Upon their approach, the smiles on Mrs. Weasley's face vanished as it encountered Sherlock's.

Dumbledore, maintaining his joyous expression, advanced towards her, followed by Sherlock and Professor McGonagall. "What seems to be the matter, Molly? Don't you remember Sherlock?"

Overcoming her momentary stupefaction, Mrs. Weasley darted her gaze between Sherlock and Dumbledore, stuttering, "No, Dumbledore, we have met in Diagon Alley last summer. You mentioned we would be seeing a 'new' friend today. Is Sherlock that friend?"

Her unusual comportment left Sherlock puzzled. Considering the warmth of Mrs. Weasley's previous greeting in Diagon Alley, he had anticipated her delight in his induction into the Order of the Phoenix.

With a gentle shake of his head and a pat on Mrs. Weasley's shoulder, Dumbledore reassured her, "I'll explain everything when we convene for the feast, Molly."

Fully trusting Dumbledore, Mrs. Weasley refrained from pursuing the matter. Regaining her smile, albeit with apparent force, she turned towards Sherlock and courteously suggested, "This is your first visit to our abode, dear. Why don't you take a stroll and soak it all in? Our eldest, Bill, is back for Christmas. He can show you around."

Although Sherlock sensed the strain behind her smile, he decided against questioning it. After all, he was confident that the evening meal would be brimming with revelations.

Heeding Mrs. Weasley's summons, a young wizard with the characteristic Weasley red hair stepped out from the dwelling. His impeccably maintained long ponytail, earring, and overall appearance made a notable impression.

Greeting Sherlock with a warm smile, the wizard extended a hand, "It has been a while, Sherlock. I hope you'd excuse my familiarity and allow me to address you as such?"

Sherlock inclined his head in silent agreement. Considering the wizard's age and Mrs. Weasley's mention of his return, Sherlock was sure he was meeting none other than Bill Weasley, the eldest of the Weasley brood.